


Make the Yule-tide Gay

by everchanginginks



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas, First Kiss, M/M, Meet-Cute, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28052340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everchanginginks/pseuds/everchanginginks
Summary: The Stilinski family haven't had a Christmas tree, or any Christmas decorations for that matter, since Stiles's mother passed away six years ago. This year will be different though, especially considering that Stiles bumps into the captain of the basketball team, Derek Hale, at the Christmas tree sale.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 22
Kudos: 124
Collections: The Sterek Secret Santa - Edition 2020





	Make the Yule-tide Gay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yorit1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorit1/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, yorit1! I hope you enjoy this little Christmas gift.
> 
> I made a playlist to accompany the fic: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/24yjr2a26cbAwXmVwR5kAK?si=dQ3NywFtTSSZByuPDDMkuA

"We should get a tree.”

Stiles blinks down at his half-eaten sandwich, unsure if he heard that right, before looking up at his father. The sheriff, clad in his uniform, sits opposite him by the breakfast table with his eyes firmly in the newspaper. It’s an innocent statement on its own, but Stiles knows it’s not. They haven’t had a tree in six years. There’s less than a week until Christmas Day and there’s not even an errant bauble to be found in the Stilinski household.

“Seriously?” Stiles asks. 

“Seriously,” his dad confirms. “It’s time. I’ll dig out your mom’s decorations from the attic later.”

There’s a thick lump in Stiles’s throat and he swallows around it, forces his next words through it.

“You have an early shift Friday, right? Maybe we could go pick one up after school.”

His dad looks up from his newspaper then and his smile is as wobbly as Stiles's. 

“Sounds great, kid.”

\---

The parking lot in front of the Christmas tree sale is absolutely crowded. The sheriff finds an empty spot to squeeze the cruiser into at the edge of the lot and Stiles has to shimmy out from the passenger seat not to scratch the car next to them. While he had approached this day with careful anticipation, he could feel the excitement surge with every step closer to the trees. His dad seems to notice as much, because he chuckles and throws an arm over Stiles’s shoulders, squeezing him lightly. 

It feels like reclaiming something once lost.

The fresh scent of the trees is nearly overwhelming. There must be hundreds of them, ranging from tabletop trees to some that Stiles would estimate are more than twice his own height. People mill through the trees, chatting and surveying the supply. A couple of excited kids nearly run both Stiles and the sheriff down in their game of chase through the trees. 

“Alright, remember, no taller than 7 feet or so or we'll have to saw a hole through the ceiling,” his dad says and Stiles nods.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They’re just about to make their way into the trees when someone calls out for the sheriff. They both turn in time to see Deputy Parrish make their way towards them. At any other time, Stiles would be over the moon for a chance to make googly eyes at Deputy Parrish, but right now he feels like he’ll vibrate out of his own skin at any second. His dad squeezes his shoulder again before letting go.

“Go pick out a good one,” he says, smiling. “I’ll join you in a sec.”

Stiles shoots his dad a blinding grin before saluting a rather puzzled Parrish and darting into the trees. 

There’s a loudspeaker system set up across the lot that’s currently blasting out Tony Bennett’s _Winter Wonderland._ While Stiles has never seen snow in real life, the afternoon is uncharacteristically chilly for December in California and it adds to the atmosphere. He can nearly imagine the cold biting his cheeks. 

He makes his way down the rows of trees, letting his fingers skim across the needles, occasionally feeling them prick at this skin. He stops in front of an impressively sized balsam fir, lips falling open in awe as he tilts his head back to look it up and down. It’s far too big for their living room, but if he was a wealthy oil magnate with a mansion, this would one hundred percent be the tree for him. Stiles is so enamoured by the tree that he doesn’t notice someone approaching until they speak.

“Do you need any help?” 

Stiles will never admit to _yelping,_ but in reality that is his reaction. As if appearing out of nothing, like an angelic Christmas spirit, there’s Derek Hale. Senior, captain of the basketball team, prom king Derek Hale. In a green vest and Santa hat. Stiles doesn’t know when he fell into a portal leading to another dimension where Derek Hale works at a Christmas tree sale, but here he is.

Derek squints at him and Stiles realises he’s been staring.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Do you have like… this tree, but in a more pleb size? Ya know, for the commoners.”

Derek’s lips twitch ever so slightly in what could be amusement and Stiles feels such an immense sense of accomplishment that he nearly goes lightheaded.

“We’ve got a couple of smaller balsam firs in another section,” Derek replies and nods to the left. “Follow me.”

_Winter Wonderland_ has turned into Ella Fitzgerald’s _Sleigh Ride_ and Stiles’s legs have turned to jelly. They stumble over themselves in their hurry to follow Derek through the next three rows. He thinks this might be the longest time he’s ever spent in High School King Hale’s presence and it’s thrilling and daunting all at once. 

“You go to Beacon Hills High, right?” Derek asks and Stiles jumps to attention at his side.

“Uh yeah. I’m a sophomore.”

“Thought I recognized you. Aren’t you on the lacrosse team?”

Stiles squirms, hand flying up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“ _Technically,_ I guess. I’m more of a bench warmer,” he admits, a splotchy blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s far from the physical wonder that is Derek Hale. It looks like Derek’s pectorals are trying their very best to bust out of that hideous green vest. 

“Why? You look fit enough,” Derek replies, his eyes flicking down Stiles’s gangly limbs and Stiles would take it for a joke, he really would, if Derek’s face didn’t show anything but complete seriousness. He stops so suddenly that Stiles nearly bounces off his thick bicep.

“Complete lack of coordination, as you clearly can see,” Stiles says, hiding his embarrassment behind a grin. 

The hand Derek places on his shoulder, to steady him, is so warm it seeps through his jacket immediately. Jelly legs once more, even though Derek removes his hand quickly.

“This row has _pleb-sized_ balsam firs,” he explains and gestures down the row. “Want help picking one out?”

“Yes!” Stiles exclaims, too quickly and too loudly considering the concerned looks thrown their way by an elderly couple passing by. “I mean, you’re a professional, and we haven’t had a tree for _years,_ so it needs to be a good one.”

Derek’s lips twitch again and this time Stiles is sure it’s with amusement. It makes Stiles’s heart flutter.

“Alright then. Do you prefer a long one or a girthy one?” Derek replies and _that_ makes Stiles’s heart race instead and judging by the face Derek makes, he’s completely aware of it.

“Are those two mutually exclusive?” Stiles replies before his brain has the time to catch up with him and Derek grins, blindingly, beautifully, absolutely devastatingly. 

“I’m sure we’ll find something to satisfy your needs,” Derek replies and it sounds like a promise. 

\---

Somewhere between _Let It Snow_ and _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ , between Stiles dubbing a particularly thick tree as pure _quali-tree_ and Derek breaking into laughter, Stiles finds himself between a solid brick wall and another solid brick wall called Derek’s chest. He’s grateful for it too, considering that the hot, soft press of Derek’s lips against his own has brought on the return of the jelly legs. He’s not sure that he would be able to stand up on his own, not without his arms wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck for stability. Derek’s hands, so warm and steady, are placed on his hips. His pinky, clearly a weapon of mass destruction, has found its way beneath layers of flannel to rub against Stiles’s sensitive skin and it feels like he’s being branded.

“Make the Yule-tide gay, fuck, Judy Garland really knew what Christmas is all about,” Stiles gasps while Derek trails kisses down his cheek and neck, stays there when laughter bubbles almost involuntarily from his lips. 

His shoulders shake with it and Stiles clings to him tighter still, breathless and giggling too. They’re hidden away behind a majestic Colorado Blue Spruce, as secluded as it could possibly be at a Christmas tree sale.

“I’m Stiles, by the way,” Stiles adds, as an afterthought and it makes Derek pull up from his hiding space by Stiles’s neck. He immediately misses the feel of Derek’s warm breath against his skin.

Derek’s Santa hat is lopsided now and Stiles reaches up to right it.

“I know,” Derek replies, brushing his nose against Stiles’s. 

“You know?” Stiles exclaims in disbelief, eyes widening, but his lips seeking Derek’s like a moth to a flame.

“‘Course. The cutest benchwarmer Beacon Hills High has to offer.”

Stiles didn’t know that he was capable of blushing harder than he already was, but apparently he could. 

“I know who you are too,” he says, in lieu of anything else, since the idea of prom king Derek knowing who he is is so ludicrous.

Derek shrugs.

“Everyone knows who I am.”

It’s so arrogant, so conceited and so absolutely true that Stiles has to push on his rock hard chest in protest.

“Oh my god, you did not just say that,” Stiles says, but he’s laughing and so is Derek when he stumbles back a step. “Asshole.”

“Dick,” Derek replies and it sounds like a term of affection.

“Yeah, but you’re into it,” Stiles bites back and Derek looks as if he’ll reply, but they’re interrupted by the sheriff’s voice.

“Stiles? Are you here?”

Immediately on high alert, Stiles pushes on Derek’s chest until they both stumble out from behind the spruce tree. Stiles notices that he has needles stuck in his hair. The sheriff stops, eyes narrowing at the sight of them both, flushed and panting. 

“Did you find a tree?” He asks, despite looking like he wants to ask something else entirely.

“Uh, yeah! Derek here uh, helped.”

“Mm, I’m sure he did.”

“It’s a balsam fir,” Derek supplies.

“Yeah, a balsam fir, very… girthy,” Stiles adds, because if there’s something he excels in, it’s digging his own grave deeper.

The sheriff rolls his eyes so hard Stiles fears he might suffer permanent damage.

“Let’s just pay and go home,” he says and pulls his wallet out of his jacket.

\---

Stiles’s dad pays and Derek helps them carry the netted balsam fir across the parking lot to the corner spot they had parked the cruiser in. Once the tree is safely tied to the roof, Derek turns to Stiles and the sheriff pretends valiantly to busy himself with inspecting the tied rope.

“Give me your phone,” Derek commands and Stiles hands it over readily. Derek taps on it for maybe half a minute before returning it, his fingers lingering against Stiles’s. “Text me next time you’re warming the bench.”

Stiles can’t do anything but nod eagerly as Derek backs away. It’s not until he’s halfway across the parking lot that Stiles finds the words he’s looking for.

“You have a tree-mendous Christmas!” He yells. 

Derek’s shaking shoulders is reward enough. 

“Alright, Romeo,” the sheriff sighs good-naturedly. “Let’s go home.” 

Stiles can’t stop his silly smile as he climbs into the cruiser, clutching his cellphone tight in his hand. The sheriff turns the key and puts the cruiser in reverse. The radio plays _It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas_ and Stiles can’t help but agree.


End file.
